


Redemption

by orphan_account



Series: Selfish [2]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders first visit to Bristol from Mitchell's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't have a great grasp of canon for Series 2 of Being Human, but this is set sometime during it. I'm taking artistic license though.

“I’m out,” he told Ivan without preamble, causing the Old One’s brow to furrow in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re out’?” the other vampire asked. “There is no ‘out.’ All that you have put into motion, all that you have worked for, it falls apart without you. They need a leader.”

“You can lead them,” Mitchell declared firmly, not caring that it was a bad idea. With Ivan sneaking blood behind the scenes, there really wasn’t much chance that the other vampires would stay clean for long.

There never really was a chance of that anyway, though, was there?

Anders had laughed his head off when Mitchell had confided his plans for the vampire world for him, telling of the group of vampires that was already following him on the path to be blood-free. He had been offended at the response, and it was really only the fact that Anders looked sexy as hell in the bed next to him that made him stay.

 

 _“I’m sorry, but even you have to admit it’s a long shot,” the blond said with a smirk. “It’s like trying to make people give up sex. They may not need it, but they_ want _it.”_

_“What do you know?” he asked grumpily. “I’m the first vampire you’ve ever met! And you’ve known me all of three weeks!”_

_Admittedly, three_ fantastic _weeks. The trip, as originally planned, had only meant to be a week. Mitchell was extremely happy that Anders worked for himself. It meant that he could push back his plans and spend more time on “business” in Bristol._

_Anders hummed in response before sliding over and draping himself over Mitchell’s chest. “Maybe,” he murmured, brushing barely-there kisses up the vampire’s throat causing him to shiver at the intimacy of the act. “But that’s long enough to see how much going without blood hurts you,” he said before latching onto a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear, causing Mitchell to moan loudly._

_The god shifted so that he straddling him, pulling away from his neck to look down at him with a soft smile, one Mitchell was already beginning to realize was rarely displayed. “Not all of us can be as noble and self-sacrificing as you.”_

_Before Mitchell could refute the obvious self-deprecation in those words, before he could argue that Anders putting himself in danger and saving him from the vampires who had cornered him a few weeks ago was pretty much the definition of noble and self-sacrificing, the blond had sunk down on his hard cock, hissing slightly as his already abused hole was stretched once more and taking all thoughts of words from Mitchell’s mind._

 

“No,” Ivan replied simply, as Mitchell figured he would. The Old One never had a taste for vampire politics. Mitchell never had, either, though. He was simply trying to clean up the mess Herrick left behind. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, back when he had nothing to lose.

Now he had something to lose. Something he _never_ wanted to lose.

It should scare him, he knew, to feel this strongly about someone after knowing them only two months (Anders actually _had_ gotten enough business that justified extending his trip even longer). Still, he had _never_ felt this way about anyone before.

And he had certainly had enough time and experience to say that what he felt for Anders was _different_.

The cynical side of him had wanted to blame Anders’ powers. He had seen how the blond god could bend the wills of those around him. What’s to say he couldn’t make Mitchell love him?

The problem with that theory was that Anders didn’t seem to _want_ love.

Sex? Obviously.

Conversation? Sure.

Playful banter? All the time.

But anytime emotions came up, a wall would slam shut behind Anders’ eyes, though if Mitchell looked close enough, he could see a twinkle of fear.

So no, he _knew_ what he had with Anders was real. And Mitchell was going to protect it. No matter what.

“Then they can go without a leader,” he told Ivan, knowing he sounded callous but not caring.

The Old One frowned. “They’ll go back to blood without you. Back to hurting and killing humans.”

“That is their choice, not mine.”

Mitchell felt guilty about it, he really did. He knew that their addiction to blood wasn’t their fault. Well, not _entirely_ their fault. But he couldn’t be the conscience of the entire vampire community of Bristol. It was too dangerous a game to be involved in. The incident a few ago had taught him that.

Sure, he might have shrugged it off, written the attack off as a fluke and went about his business. But things had changed. _He_ had changed.

It was amazing how meeting Anders had turned his life upside down.

 

_“You never told me your name,” the blond pointed out with false bravado. It was well feigned, but Mitchell’s experienced eye could still see the underlying nervousness in his eyes._

_Whatever the other man’s life had been like, it had taught him how to hide his emotions well._

_“I didn’t get yours, either,” he shot back with a smirk._

_“Well, shit, where are my manners?” the blond quipped. “Usually when I see tall, dark strangers kill two people in front of me, I give him my name right away, along with my address and my IRD number, just in case.”_

_“The fuck is an IRD number?” Mitchell asked in amusement. He was glad that they had chosen a table in a secluded corner, not that there were many people in the pub at that time of day. Still, better safe than sorry._

_“Fuckin’ Brits,” he muttered before taking a sip of his beer._

_“Oy, I’m Irish, fuck you very much,” he shot back. “And for your information, I didn’t start that fight back there.”_

_“You sure as hell finished it,” he snorted before setting his glass down firmly. “Fuck it,” he said, thrusting his hand out over the table. “Anders Johnson.”_

_“Mitchell,” he replied with a grin, taking the proffered hand. Anders raised an eyebrow at his gloves, but didn’t comment on them._

_“That’s all I get? Or do whatever-you-are not do last names? Is Madonna one of you?”_

_He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Mitchell is my last name.”_

_“Oh, so you just have bad manners and are gonna keep your first name to yourself. That’s some thanks to the man who saved your life,” Anders said, a sexy pout playing over his lips._

_And fuck, did Mitchell want to see those lips wrapped around his cock._

_“Pretty sure_ I _was the one who saved_ you _,” he stated with a smirk. “Those guys would have ripped you apart and drained you dry if I hadn’t staked them. Your little trick wouldn’t have held them for long.”_

 _He still hadn’t figured out what the other man was. He didn’t smell human, but he didn’t smell like any supernatural being Mitchell had ever met. And though he smelled unbelievably_ good _, the scent didn’t trigger his hunger._

 _Well, his hunger for_ blood _, anyway. It had a powerful effect on a different kind of hunger he felt._

 _“Drained me dry?” Anders said with a speculative look. “So I would be correct in assuming those two_ were _vampires.”_

_“You don’t sound so surprised.”_

_The blond shrugged with a smirk, displaying one perfect dimple that Mitchell had the overwhelming urge to_ lick _. “Well, some guy comes at me with fangs before dying from a wooden stake through the heart, and I draw certain conclusions. I’ve made my peace with weird shit in life.”_

_“Well, I’ve shared my secret, now what’s yours?” he asked curiously, itching to know everything about the blond._

_“You haven’t shared your secret!” Anders protested before his eyes widened. “Unless you mean you’re…”_

_Mitchell glanced around surreptitiously before turning back to Anders and letting his eyes go black and his fangs come out for a split second. He didn’t want to scare the other man away, but after what he had witnessed in the alley, Anders deserved to know who exactly he was sharing a pint with._

_“Fuck,” he breathed, fear visible in his eyes before it was resolutely pushed away._

_Mitchell had to admire Anders’ ability to do that. He had done it before it the alley, both when one of the vampires had gone after him and after Mitchell had approached him. He wasn’t sure if it was bravery on the blond’s part or just resignation._

_Though what kind of life would make someone_ resigned _in the face of fear?_

_“You’re not just telling me all this because you’re going to kill me, are you?” Anders accused with narrowed eyes._

_“I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” he assured. “Besides, you could always just use your little trick on me. How’s it work?”_

_“That’d be telling,” he replied with a smirk. “And if I were going to use my trick on you, it’d be for something much more fun.”_

_“You don’t need a trick for that,” Mitchell said conspiratorially with a leer._

_“Well then I definitely need a first name,” Anders replied with a wink. “Gonna need a name to moan as sink into you.”_

_Mitchell was sure his eyes went dark in a very different way at the words. With anyone else on any other day, he might have playfully fought against the assumption that he was going to bottom. Not that he minded much either way, but a little play-fight for dominance could be fun._

_Today, though, he wanted Anders, anyway he could get him._

_“John.”_

_“John,” Anders all but purred, leaning in close with a lecherous grin. “Wanna be fucked by a god?”_

“You’re changing an awful lot for a bloke you’ve only just met,” George remarked a couple of days later over breakfast. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s probably for the best that you’ve stopped hanging about those other vampires and all, but…”

“But what George means,” Annie said, cutting in and giving Mitchell a stern look, “is that we don’t want you to get too invested and wind up hurt.”

“Anders isn’t going to hurt me,” he said firmly, frowning into his tea. He knew they meant well, but his flatmates didn’t understand. They didn’t know Anders like he did. Not that that was their fault. Anders had been surprising good at avoiding spending much time with the two of them, a surprising feat considering Mitchell split all his time between the three of them.

George and Annie shared a meaningful look.

“But if something… happens…” Annie said carefully. “It _will_ hurt you.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Something like what?”

“If you… lose control,” George said sheepishly. “Not that we think you will. You’ve been doing so well. It’s just… being that close to someone… surely it tempts you?”

Mitchell’s face cleared in relief and he laughed. “That’s not a problem with Anders. He’s not exactly mortal either.”

They both looked at him in surprise before Annie scowled. “You mean I didn’t have to concentrate so hard on being visible when we were introduced? Do you know how worried I was that I would just disappear on him?”

“Nope!” Mitchell laughed again.

“What is he?” George asked. “He’s not a vampire or a werewolf…” he added, though a bit uncertainly.

“I, uh, I’m actually not sure if he’d want me to tell you,” he replied guiltily. “It’s something he and his brothers tend to keep close to their chests.”

“He’s not dangerous though, right?” Annie asked in concern.

Mitchell snorted. “Trust me, I’m still the dangerous one in the relationship. But don’t use the word ‘relationship’ or anything around him,” he warned. “He’s got a few commitment issues there.”

Annie frowned at that. “He’s not just using you for sex, is he?” she asked with narrowed eyes. “Because I will go all poltergeist on him if he is.”

George looked distinctively uncomfortable but nodded in support. “You deserve better than that, Mitch. Especially if you’re going out of your way to change your life for the man!”

The vampire rolled his eyes. “He’s not using me for sex.” The sex was fucking amazing though. “And I’m not changing my life for him. I’m making better life choices so that my life doesn’t fall apart later on. That’s a _good_ thing.”

“You were trying to make a difference before,” Annie pointed out. “You were trying to make the world a safer place by getting the vampires off of blood. That was a good thing too.”

He shook his head. “That was a stupid fantasy that was never going to happen,” he said, loathe as he was to admit how wrong he was. “Vampires aren’t going to change.”

“You did,” George reminded him softly.

“No, I just reached the point where I couldn’t live with killing anymore and was too cowardly to stake myself,” he spat bitterly.

“Mitchell…” Annie said, reaching out to him in concern. He flinched away though.

“Don’t.” He took a few calming breaths. “Vampires are never going to not want blood. It takes a special kind of masochism to deny the cravings. Very few reach the depth of self-loathing required to stay clean.”

George and Annie both looked stricken at the thought of Mitchell hating himself, but what exactly did they expect? They saw the kind of pain the blood withdrawal put him through. Sure, staying clean was the right thing to do, but he didn’t go through the pain because he was “noble and self-sacrificing,” as Anders had oh-so sardonically put it. He did it for purely selfish reasons.

He hadn’t, though, tried to dissuade Anders from thinking it was from a place of honor and principle when he first saw him going through withdrawal symptoms.

 

_The trembles woke him from a sound sleep. He groaned as the pain hit him, rolling away from the god tucked against him, not wanting to wake the other man up._

_Why the fuck did it always have to hit at the worst times?_

_He bit his lip as he curled into himself, trying in vain to stop the nausea roiling in his stomach. It was times like this, with pain shooting through his trembling limbs and his stomach threatening to expel everything he had ever eaten, that he wished he had the courage to just end it all._

_Death couldn’t be worse than this._

_“John?” Anders’ sleepy voice called._

_“Go back to sleep,” he managed to grind out, though he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that slipped out when Anders’ warm body wrapped around him from behind. He leaned back into the heat, body still shaking violently from withdrawal._

_“What’s wrong?” Anders asked, voice full of concern._

_“It’s nothing,” he answered. “This is normal.”_

_“It’s normal for you to be shaking in pain?” he said incredulously._

_“Body needs blood,” he explained through gritted teeth. “And it gets pissed when it doesn’t get it.”_

_“You’re going through withdrawal,” Anders realized, scooting closer to him and resting his chin on shoulder. “That fucking sucks. When does it get better?”_

_“It’ll stop in a few hours,” Mitchell replied, hoping it wasn’t lying. Sometimes, he felt horrible for_ days _. He really didn’t want Anders to see him like that though._

_“No, you egg, I meant, when do the symptoms go away completely?”_

_“They don’t,” he said, panting slightly as the pain intensified. “They get… more spaced out over the decades, but they still happen every few months or so.”_

_“Fuck, Mitchell, this is what you get for trying not to kill people? You’re a better man than I am.”_

_“Doubtful,” he said, cringing as he fought the urge to vomit._

_“What can I do?”_

_“Hold me?” he asked, not even carrying that he sounded pathetic. “And don’t hate me if I barf on you.”_

_“I can do one of those things,” Anders assured him, pulling him even closer so that there was no space at all between their bodies._

“I’m leaving Friday,” Anders admitted as they lay in his hotel room together after a particularly satisfying round of sex.

Mitchell fought the urge to beg him to stay. That wouldn’t be fair to him. Anders had never meant to stay the three months that had ended up staying. And while the other man had found business to do, Mitchell knew he had extended his trip primarily for him. He couldn’t be selfish and try to get him to stay longer.

“Your family must be missing you,” he said instead.

Anders snorted derisively. “They probably haven’t even noticed I’m gone. There’s a client back home that’s having a crisis I need to handle though.”

He frowned at that. He didn’t like the thought of Anders not having anyone back home that cared.

“Surely there’s _someone_ who’s missed you?”

“I’m sure my fish have,” Anders replied with a shrug, flopping over to fling an arm around Mitchell and bury his face in his shoulder.

Mitchell scowled at that. “Well, _I’ll_ miss you when you leave here,” he stated, wrapping his arms around the smaller god and holding him tight.

“Hmmm,” Anders hummed in contentment. “Don’t want to leave you,” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

Mitchell was sure it wasn’t something the blond god would have admitted so freely if he had been fully awake, but it made something warm bloom inside his cold chest and allowed him to hope that the relationship between them wouldn’t end when Anders bordered the plane to New Zealand.

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be more to come in the series, just so you know.


End file.
